Page 46 of Full Split
He watches me with an odd expression. There’s heat and desire there, but there’s something else, too. Something softer. A vulnerability that speaks to my own insecurity.
This whole time, I’ve been in my head about doing this right, about embarrassing myself or being a shitty lover. But I forget sometimes that his playful, cocky demeanor is something he learned to protect himself. It’s who he is, and he is confident, but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have moments of self-consciousness like the rest of us mere mortals. He’s never talked to me much about dysphoria, but I know he’s struggled with validation in the past. Which is why I think winning these big competitions means so much to him. It’s not just about winning, it’s about proving himself.
I don’t want him to feel like he has to prove himself to me. I don’t want my attention to be what makes him feel validated. I want that to come from inside himself, because he deserves to see himself the way I see him. The way Weston and his mother see him. The way the rest of the world sees him, aside from a vocal minority that isn’t paying attention to the right things.
He. Is.Perfect.
I crawl back over him to kiss him again, to reassure him, or maybe both of us, that this is okay. Whatever happens here, it’s me and him. We can talk it through. We can trust each other.
“I want to do all the things you like. All of them. I can’t think of any limits right now, but if they come up, I promise I’ll be vocal about it. That’s what I need from you too, Niles. Your voice. I need you to tell me what you like, what feels good and what you don’t want. Okay?”
“Okay,” he says, whispering against my lips.
I adjust so I’m lying next to him, his head on my arm, my free hand caressing up and down his torso. “Show me.”
Placing his hand on mine, he keeps his eyes locked on mine as he guides me down between his legs. My fingertips part their way through his soft pubic hair. The lower he pushes my hand, the hotter and wetter it is.
“I like soft touches on my dick,” he says as he leads me there. His gasp when I hold him with my thumb and first two fingers, like he did in the hot tub, encourages me to keep going. It’s an odd angle with my left hand, and I want to be gentle, so I just move my thumb up and down to start. “Yes, like that,” he moans. “So good already.”
I play with him this way until he’s panting and moaning into my kisses. Then he widens his legs and pushes my hand further down. “It’s okay to explore. You won’t hurt me.”
He didn’t say you can’t hurt me, meaning that pain or discomfort is in the realm of possibility. What he said is youwon’thurt me. Which implies a level of trust that punches me in the gut.
“I like my pussy touched too, and my ass. And it’s okay to call things what they are. I don’t mind the words pussy or cunt if you want to talk dirty to me. I’ll let you know if I have a preference when things come up. What I absolutely don’t want, or need, is for you to pretend that I’m anything other than who and what I am. I’m a man with a pussy. And my dick is small, but I like to think I make up for it with my charming personality.”
I chuckle at his attempt to lighten the conversation with humor, but I also want him to know it isn’t necessary. I let my fingers wander, touching him everywhere I can reach while I kiss him.They dip into his hole a little as I roam over it, coming away drenched.
“I like your dick. And your pussy. And your ass. And I’m looking forward to getting to know them all much, much better.”
I bring my fingers up to my mouth and finally get my first taste. Tentatively licking one finger first, then pushing the tips of all four into my mouth to suck them clean. The sweet tang of my new obsession explodes across my tastebuds, and I can feel all the systems of my body recalibrate themselves to make this man mine.
Trusting that he’ll do what he said and tell me if or when he doesn’t like something, I trail my mouth down his body until I’m face to face with the source of all my longing. This time, I don’t hesitate to chase that drop of arousal, and my tongue makes a broad stripe through the folds of his pussy, from his taint to the tip of his cock. Niles’ moans and the way he squirms encourage me to keep going, so I do it three more times just to make sure I’ve cleaned him of all that delicious cream before I focus on his dick.
The way he gasps, “Oh, fuck,” when I wrap my lips around his cock and suck gently sends a jolt of excitement straight down my spine, nearly making me come in my pants again. I alternate between suckling him, rolling my tongue against the bottom of his shaft, and licking up all those juices, until he’s rocking his hips against my face and moaning out a litany of curses and praise.
He cries out, tangling his fingers in my hair. His tight grip sends a pulse of arousal through me. Suddenly I’m glad I’ve been too lazy to go for a trim.
I bask in every second of Niles’ orgasm. The way his thighs clench and his back arches, the guttural way he moans my name.
It’s in this moment I know for certain I am well and truly gone.
For the rest of the week, we keep finding places and times to kiss and touch and sometimes just talk. I love the way he takes charge, the way he walks me through how and where he wants to be touched. I’ve always seen Niles as a person who seems so sure of himself, but this is a different perspective. A different side of Niles’ strength and confidence that’s just as powerfully sexy as the way he tastes.
I’m so captivated, so completely possessed by him, that I don’t even notice an entire week fly by. In a series of blinks, practices, workouts, and stolen moments, he’s off to Texas to train for Worlds. And I realize that I’ve been so wrapped up in him that I have no idea what to do with myself now that he's gone.
When they get back, I know Niles and I need to have a serious conversation about what we’re doing, and how it could affect the rest of our families and lives if anyone finds out. Sneaking around like this and making out behind closed doors or stealing quick touches when no one is looking is fun, but we can’t keep this a secret forever. I’m not sure my anxiety can handle it, for one. But also, Niles deserves more than to be some dirty old man’s secret.
It’s just really hard to have a serious conversation like that when you’re busy being a dirty old man with his mouth full of Niles Pruitt’s ass.
CHAPTER 15
NILES
The national team training camp is intense. It feels less like practice and more like a constant, week-long competition. It’s five days straight of workouts, skills assessments, endless meetings, media appearances, and evaluations with trainers and medical.
It’s more pressure than I’ve ever been under in my life. Weston and I were told to expect intensity, but this is something else.
I kind of love it. And, what’s more, I feel like I belong here.
